You and I
by ALittleBird1
Summary: She's literally the girl he has been dreaming about. He has no confidence, and her's is intimidating and alluring. He thinks with his heart, and she with her intellect.
1. Chapter 1

NOTE: This is NOT a Pitch Perfect fan fiction, however, the website didn't have the movie I had written about available, so I put it under this category. This is based on the 2007 movie, Rocket Science, starring Anna Kendrick, an underrated indie film. (I strongly recommend watching it if you haven't. You do not, however, need to have watched the movie to understand this fan fiction) I have created my own character as the protagonist and changed several details about the movie. The protagonist's thoughts will be written in _italics._ Thank you for taking your time to read my story, I hope you like it, I genuinely put a lot of effort into creating these pieces. Enjoy and let me know what you think in the review section :)

Chapter I.

I stood in the hallway, looking down, in front of me, at her feet and the white tile beneath them. It was just she and I.

"Ben."

I picked my head up and looked into her blue eyes. Ginny. Somehow, I knew her name was Ginny. The corners of her mouth curved into a subtle smile while she tilted her head. She moved closer to me, maintaining eye contact and that modest smile. I stood, just looking at her as she looked at me and time seemed to suspend like a mist around us. I was unafraid. Someone was looking into me, and I was unafraid. This moment seemed so surreal; devoid of vague, muddled feelings. This moment, feeling only so clearly towards her. All I could do was look at this girl and let out a breath with such suppression of the heart and respond, simply, with a smile. She put her arms around my neck as I let my hands fall naturally around her waist. Her brown hair was in a ponytail so I could plainly see the details of her face: narrow nose, thin lips, and slightly puffy cheeks. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was wearing an unzipped brown hoodie with a dark blue tank top underneath, and her upper body was resting lightly on mine. I felt my heart beating in the left side of my chest. Not pounding, or racing, just beating. I let out a sigh and my vision became lighter and lighter, blotting out the details within the background in white, until it slowly spread closer and closer, forming an aura around her, until it finally enveloped her as well, making her disappear within my arms.

I woke up to my bedroom ceiling, and the rotating fan attached to it. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight leaking through the window's shade slits. I turned my head towards the nightstand. The clock displayed, in large red digits: 3:46am.

 _"Thank god, it's not 6"_

I rolled over and burrowed my face into my pillow and faded quickly back into unconsciousness…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

 _"Ughh"_

I quickly rolled over and swung my hand onto the snooze button.

I looked at the digital clock's display face: 6:00am

I could feel the bags under my eyes. On school days, no matter how much sleep I got, I never felt rested. My body always screamed at me to lie back down onto the mattress. Nothing felt better than to just lower yourself back under the covers, cradle your pillow, close your eyes, and tell yourself, "just for two more minutes…"

I fell asleep again.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Slap.

BEEP BEEP-

Slap.

BEEEP BEEEP BEEEP

Slap.

"6:28am"

 _"Fuck."_

I hopped out of the covers and into the jeans lying on the floor, grabbed the brown hoodie off my desk chair and swung it around my upper body until I was wearing it. I rushed into the bathroom across the hall and messily, aggressively, brushed my teeth. I scrambled to the front door, realized I had forgotten my backpack, rushed back into my room to fetch it, and ran, breaking multiple times to catch my breath, to the bus stop at the end of the street. I stopped and panted upon reaching it, while, simultaneously, hearing the low roar of the engine approaching. I had, again, caught the bus by a thread. This was an almost daily routine for me and I never regretted it, because nothing felt as sweet as lying in bed. I did, however, look a mess. My medium length, curly black hair had the usual bed-head frizz, which made it look poof-ier than normal; I had also worn these slightly baggy jeans for two days in a row already.

 _"Is this worth the extra sleep?"_ Yes. The answer is yes.

The elongated, bulky, yellow vehicle halted next to the curb, flung its doors open, and I, doggedly, stepped inside, along with the other students.

…

 _"Why did this class have to be the first period of the day?"_ Newspaper: The only class that actually required brain-effort from me, and the only class that I genuinely wanted to give brain-effort to, but consistently caught me at the worst possible time of the day.

The desks were arranged in a rectangular fashion in this room, which I always found peculiar. There was a large, unused space enclosed by our desks in the center of the room. We all sat faced towards the empty space. Mrs. Richards was at the front of the classroom jotting down ideas for the upcoming paper on the white-board while trying to elicit suggestions from the students. The students seated at the desks closest to the front wall had to twist their upper bodies around in order to look at the teacher.

For the last fifteen minutes of class, I had been distractedly drawing a continuous zig-zagged line in my notebook while in a half-asleep daze. Detached from the happenings of the class, I, sleepily, mulled over unrelated thoughts in my mind: that song I heard in the car a couple days ago ( _"what was it called?"_ ), that flyer I was handed by some kid in the hallway before class, my dream last night… my mind paused here...

I could picture the image of the girl so vividly: Blue eyes, narrow nose, brown, tied-back hair. Her face seemed so familiar. _"I know her. What was her name? Where have I seen her?"_ I was certain it was somewhere on campus, but I couldn't place it. I sifted through portions of my memory attempting to find her. _"In the hallway? No. Algebra? No."_

I began to place this face into every conceivable area of Greensboro High within my mind in an effort to draw a recollection of this girl from my memory.

"Ben!"

I was abruptly broken from my thoughts; Mrs. Richards forcefully took my attention.

"What are your thoughts for next week's paper? What should we write about?" she asked intently.

I could feel faces of my classmates turn towards me.

"Uh.." I looked down at my notebook and the huge zig-zagged line I had drawn in it (I hadn't realized I had covered so much of the paper). I, then, looked at the small black and white flyer lying on my desk next to it.

 **Should polygamous marriage be legal?**

 **Watch Greensboro High and Sommerville Prep debate for the semi-finals**

 **Friday, March 24th at 7:00pm in the Greensboro Auditorium**

"We could cover the semi-final debate versus Sommerville" I responded, trying to appease Mrs. Richards.

"Perfect, perfect" she said, twirling and uncapping the dry erase marker to jot the idea on the board.  
"We can interview the team captain and coach before and afterwards to get some good quotes while also covering the outcome of the debate," she said as she scribbled the proposition on the board.

"Do you know who the debate coach is, Ben?"

"No, I don't" I said, admittedly

"Her name is Mrs. Ayers, she has the team meet after school twice a week in the auditorium for debate prep. You're not busy after school today, are you Ben?"

"No, I'm no-"

"Perfect! They're meeting today, I'll email Mrs. Ayers after this to let her know you'll be coming by to interview her and the team captain"

Nervousness hit me. I hated doing interviews. I always felt put on the spot, in constant suspense, waiting for myself to fumble. This was ironic for someone who loved writing news articles. Even more ironic considering I was the one asking questions.

I nodded and let the teacher move on to the next student to pry suggestions out of.

 _"Time to start drafting questions."_ This would now be my worry for the rest of the day.

…

I stood, leaning the right side of my body onto the wall beside the auditorium entrance. I had taken my time walking here after the final bell of the day had rung, and, was further delaying the imminent interviews by scrupulously examining my drafted questions. I was looking for any reason to postpone opening the door and entering the room that held expectant Mrs. Ayers and the debate captain, so I had convinced myself that I needed to stay, standing here, staring at these questions, longer.

They included the usual, "What is your name, how do you spell it, what grade are you in" line-up, working slowly into more specific and thought provoking questions, which is where I usually got the most usable quotes.

I obsessively read and reread the question list, and asked myself, _"Am I covering everything I need? Am I being specific enough with this question? Should I ask more about their emotions?"_

I dreaded pulling the handle of that door, but I knew there was nothing more to be done with this paper. It was time to go.

 _"Let's get this over with."_

I felt myself being torn away from that nice, safe space on the wall I had been leaning on, as I mechanically swung the auditorium door open. A small crowd- the debate team- turned within their seats and glanced at me upon my entrance into the back of the room. I knew I had that "deer-in-headlights" look across my face. I spotted a larger, gray-haired woman within the crowd smiling warmly at me, whom I assumed was Mrs. Ayers. I gave a half-hearted smile to the group and approached the woman, while she, simultaneously, rose from her seat to greet me.

She said, with a knowing look in her eye, said, "You must be Ben Heasley from 'The Dam'" (that was the name of our newspaper, inspired by our mascot: the beaver).

"Yes, thank you for lending me your time" I replied, leaning forward and extending my hand to meet, and shake, hers. I felt, uncomfortably, out of place, like I always do when conducting interviews.

"I've been keeping up with your stories, you're quite the writer," she said, giving me a sincere smile.

"Oh," I said sheepishly, "I appreciate that."

"I'll introduce you to the team captain, Virginia. She can answer any questions you have. Virginia!" she motioned to someone on my left. I turned to meet her, and-

Blue eyes, brown tied-up hair, narrow nose, slightly puffy cheeks.

 _"Oh my god."_

"This is Virginia, our debate captain. Virginia, this is Ben."

She smiled, extended her hand towards me, and said, matter-of-factly, "Hi, nice to meet you, Ben."


	3. Chapter 3

AN: This chapter is a little slower than the last two, but I wanted to draw out the interaction between Virginia and Ben. This isn't an instantaneous romance. I hope you enjoy and continue to follow the story (I'm sorry this chapter took so long to post.)

Chapter III.

At the sight of her face, I instantaneously recalled where I had first seen her: January, the team had staged a mock debate in an attempt to recruit students; the demonstration was mandatory for all Greensboro students to attend, and had replaced the scheduled seventh period time slot for that day. I remembered, vividly, the unassuming silence we sat in before the demonstration began, and how that silence was abruptly broken by this girl's ferociously rapid, precise, and confident words. Her intensity had produced a rare feeling for me: awe…

These thoughts processed through my mind as I stared back at her; her hand still extended in the air towards me.

Realizing the blank expression on my face, my mind quickly returned to the present moment as I met Virginia's hand and shook it.

"Nice to meet you too, thank you for lending me your time today," I said, trying to express a friendly smile.

"Virginia," Mrs. Ayers said, turning to the girl, "Why don't you take Ben down the hall to my office so you two can talk somewhere quieter."

Mrs. Ayers, then, directed her gaze towards me, and lightly placed her hand on my shoulder, "And If you have any more questions for me afterwards Mr. Heasley, I'll be in here," she said, squinting her eyes and smiling at me, as if there were some inside joke between us.

I gave her a smile and a quick nod as she began to sit back down within her seat, redirecting her attention to the debate group.

"Come on," Virginia said, as she tilted her head towards the side-exit. She promptly turned and led the way as I followed behind her. Her walk was focused and self-assured: head up, eyes looking forward, and brisk moving legs. She walked with this energy that exuded confidence and authority, as though this were all a procedure she had done before. It was intimidating. We left the auditorium and entered the hall; she, then, turned to her right and briskly strode towards end of the corridor as I trailed. I examined her clothes as we walked: gray knit sweater with a white button-up collared shirt underneath and jeans.

We stopped in front of a brown door whereupon she pulled a key from her pocket. I could feel my nerves building as the interview approached, more so than normal.

"Actually.."

She paused before inserting the metal object into the bolt.

"Come on, let's do this interview outside," she said as she retracted and returned the small bronze key to her pocket.

The request caught me off guard; the already peculiarity of the situation and my own natural apprehension in these situations had me on edge. I, however, followed and refrained from asking questions as she prudently swiveled and led me to the exit.

"It's always deserted out there after school, plus there's benches we can sit at," she said, turning her head so I could see the profile of her face as she talked.

"No problem," I said, trying to mask my nervousness maintain a tone of politeness.

We arrived at the double-doored exit; she turned and propped the doorway open with her body.

"After you," she said, motioning for me to pass. I gave her a reluctant smile and a modest, "Thanks," as I exited- she followed close behind me.

"This way," she directed while walking past me. We contoured the edges of the school building until we reached a secluded area with benches. I felt anxious, I knew I would have to start the interview soon, but I also felt oddly giddy at the thought of being led to this remote portion of Greensboro by this girl. This strangely attractive girl…

I followed her cues, sat next to her and scrambled to assemble my notes, flipping through my various doodle-filled notebook pages to find Virginia's interview questions.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked, taking a metal tin from her back pocket.

The question, again, caught me off guard.

I watched as she unlatched and plucked a hand-rolled cigarette from the container.

"Don't worry, I doubt 90 percent of the faculty even know this part of the school exists."

I redirected my attention back to my notebook and anxiously resumed leafing through the pages, "No, no, that's cool. Go ahead."

She lit her cigarette and began to drag on the tobacco; while I searched for the questions I had so painstakingly created.

"Here they are," I said, finally finding the list.

1\. Thank the interviewee for agreeing to meet

"Before we start, I just want to say thank you for lending me your time," I said, turning towards her, nervously, trying to appear polite.

She exhaled a film of smoke.

"According to Coach Ayers, I'm obligated. But, you're welcome. Fire away," she replied.

I cleared my throat and proceeded down the list.

"What is your name and how do you spell it?"

"Virginia Ryerson, R-Y-E-R-S-O-N. I trust you know how to spell Virginia.. You can call me, Ginny, though."

 _"Ginny..."_ The name resurfaced from my subconscious; I felt a surreal chill pass over me.

I scribbled the name, barely legibly, as she had spelled it.

"What grade are you in?"

"I'm a senior," she replied

 _"Senior,"_ I jotted.

"How are you feeling about the upcoming debate versus Sommerville this weekend?"

"I feel prepared," she answered briefly, moving the edge of the cigarette to her lips and inhaling.

"Are you feeling nervous at all?"

"No," she let out a long exhale of smoke and flicked ashen tobacco to the ground, "My team and I have an edge; we're more experienced. Research can only help you so much; being able to use that information to successfully persuade the audience and counter the opposition is crucial. You can only get better at that through experience."

I nodded as she replied; my eyes fixated upon my notebook where I hurriedly transcribed her words as best as possible. She spoke quickly and decisively, making her response difficult to maintain pace with. Thoughts were also buzzing like white noise throughout my mind so that I could only half-hear the words she said.

"What made you want to be a part of the debate team?" I asked.

"I was tired of the world telling me what was possible and I decided to figure it out for myself.. More specifically, this idiot named, 'Ravi,' who was somehow the undefeated best individual speaker for three years in a row, would unrelentingly proclaim that all women are naturally mentally inferior to men."

I ardently scrawled in my notebook trying, messily, to recreate her words.

"I dethroned him a year later when I won best speaker…" she tapered off as she raised the tobacco, again, to her mouth and pulled the smoke into her lungs.

The sound of intense pen scratching against my notebook paper filled the air between us.

"…Can that last part be off-the-record? Obviously that boy was mentally handicapped, but I don't want that going in the paper," she stated.

I diligently and repeatedly crossed over the last few lines of notes until they were illegible.

"Thanks," she muttered.

I shook my head and crinkled my chin, "Not at all.. But, for future reference, you're supposed to announce you want something off-the-record before you say it."

"I'll remember that… Ben, right?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"What grade are you in, Ben?"

I felt the line of questioning shift upon me; I felt my nervousness returning.

"Tenth," I answered.

"I'm going to ask you a question. What do you think about marriage?"

The question baffled me. "Well.. I mean.."

"Just, in general. Do you think it's a good idea? Do you want to be married someday?"

"… Well, yeah. I don't think about it a lot, not at this age, but I would like someone to share my life with."

She shook her head, cigarette still burning in-hand, "I think it's honestly the most ridiculous thing that has ever been invented."

She lightly flicked the end of her cigarette to dissolve the accumulated ash.

"The basis of marriage is unconditional love, but unconditional love is unrealistic. Everything in this world has conditions, and love is not an exception. That's why marriages end in divorce. Why even make the promise if we can't keep it? It's doomed from the start."

"You don't think marriages can work?"

"If you want to live a lie they can."

The sound of footsteps could be heard approaching.

"Ginny!" a blonde girl with braids dressed in a floor length skirt approached.

I jumped and shifted uncomfortably within my seat. _"She's still holding her cigarette…"_

"It's okay, it's just Crystal," Ginny disclosed to me.

"We need you back in the auditorium, the coach insisted that you be the opening affirmative this round," the braided girl said.

Ginny dropped what was left of her cigarette onto ground and squished the ember under her shoe. She then took the pen from my hand, scratched something into my notebook, and handed the utensil back to me.

"That's my cell phone number," Ginny said as she rose from the bench, "you can contact me to get the rest of your answers."

The two girls started back towards debate practice.

I looked down at the paper:

 _"(609) 728 – 5708"_


End file.
